I’d called for help to clean the house I wanted Laura to come home to.
Mom had arrived planning how to keep her out.
“Divorce?”
“I don’t want a divorce. I want my wife back.”
“Then stop letting that manipulative little…”
“Don’t!”
She stared at me.
“She left because you said those things, and I kept letting you.”
“I want my wife back.”
“She left because she couldn’t stand being challenged.”
Mom’s eyes narrowed.
The mop dripped between us. Mom was waiting for the small laugh I usually gave her, the one that let us both pretend she hadn’t meant it.
I didn’t laugh.
“I kept letting you.”
“I was helping her learn to be a decent wife who respects her husband’s mother.”
I took the mop.
“I need you to leave. I’ll manage.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
I held out my other hand. “The key, too.”
I didn’t laugh.
She found the key but kept it between her fingers.
